I exhaled. "I just... I feel like I’m in over my head."
At twenty-two, Kenzie Love was barely older than the babysitters I’d had in high school. But the way she moved through the house told a different story. She had traded her usual going-out crop tops for a soft, oversized cashmere sweater that kept slipping off one shoulder. Her hair, usually wild and bleached, was pulled back in a loose, damp bun.
"Hey." She reached out, her cool fingers tracing my jaw. "Look at me."
I exhaled. "I just... I feel like I’m in over my head."
At twenty-two, Kenzie Love was barely older than the babysitters I’d had in high school. But the way she moved through the house told a different story. She had traded her usual going-out crop tops for a soft, oversized cashmere sweater that kept slipping off one shoulder. Her hair, usually wild and bleached, was pulled back in a loose, damp bun.
"Hey." She reached out, her cool fingers tracing my jaw. "Look at me."